Page 72 of Love's Ace

He was afraid I wouldn’t want him anymore.

I couldn’t kill those men, but I could show him how wrong he was.

“Wren, you don’t have to do that.”

I ran my fingers slowly up the length of his thighs and watched his cock twitch in front of me. When my eyes rolled up to meet his, I could see the twist of emotions playing like a kaleidoscope in his stare.

I saw the passion, the want, the desire, the deep-seated need to know that what he saw—what I said—was true.

And I saw the fear, the shame.

I wanted to erase that from every fiber of his being, every inch of his soul.

“Theo?” I murmured his name, and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against his stomach. When he shivered, I did it again, then whispered my question into the line of his hip like it was a place made to hold all my secrets. “Can I take care of you?”

This wasn’t about the thread between us, or Theo losing control. It wasn’t about something I had to do… It was about something I wanted to give him, something he needed to know.Something that felt almost inevitable as I looked up at him again and saw the tears in his eyes a second before his lids fluttered shut and he nodded.

“Okay.” It came out as a whisper, and I let my tongue flick out to lick the water from his skin to see how he’d react.

He didn’t move away—he didn’t try to push me back.

He just let a low groan tear from his throat and pressed his palms flat to the shower wall. It was so strange, because Iknewhe wanted this—I could feel how much he needed it beating across my skin, could see it in a shimmer of trembling color along the thread connecting us.

I’d never felt so connected to another person. I’d never been sosureof anyone.

I was sure of Theo.

I was sure of this… of us…

My fingers gently pressed against his hips and he turned his body like he knew what I wanted—he was already healing, the bruises on his ribs fading almost in front of my eyes. It wasn’t the physical damage that I’d been concerned about.

It was the pain I’d seen written across his face when he spoke, the hollowness I could feel echoing inside him.

I wanted to fill it up—Ihadto show him that none of it mattered to me.

That he was still… everything.

He stood still while I brushed kisses along the base of his spine, the dimples on his lower back. And he let out a low sound when I trailed my tongue gently along the swell of his ass.

“Wren, you don’t have to do this.” Every time he said it, his voice was more breathy, desperate.

My head bowed, cheek pressed against his hip. “Do youwantme to, Theo?”

That was the question—the real question. I wasn’t going to do a damn thing he didn’t want, but I could feel the desire rollingthrough him as much as I could feel my need to show him that I wanted him. That it felt like I’dalwayswanted him.

That all the anger and resentment I felt every time I shot an arrow was because I hadn’t found him yet.

I’d painted the world in crimson threads waiting for him, but I’dfoundmy soulmate.

And I wanted him to be happy.

My fingers massaged his thighs gently while I let him think, waiting patiently for the words that seemed to be trapped just behind his tongue.

Finally, he let out a small sound, the softest of whispers.

“Of course I do.”

“Then trust me.”

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